


Quiet Time

by JantoJones



Series: Further Brief Briefings [3]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 11:16:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11804898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones





	Quiet Time

People thought that the life of a Section 2 U.N.C.L.E. agent was all action, glamour, and sex. The truth was far more mundane; especially for Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin. Admittedly, there was a fair amount of action for them but, because Napoleon was CEA, and Illya was his second in command, they had quite a lot of routine admin to get through also. As well as their own mission reports, they had section evaluations to perform, security reports to overlook, agent training to organise, and many other things. 

Illya looked up from his typewriter at the sound of a deep sigh from Napoleon. 

“Are you bored, my friend?”

“To the point of frustration,” Napoleon replied, with a heavy voice. “When I was a green, wet-behind-the-ears, newly graduated agent, I didn’t realise that the future would hold this much office work.”

“Rank has its privileges,” Illya told him, with a slight shrug. “But it also means responsibility.”

“Tell me about it,” the other man grumbled. “I almost find myself wishing for an unexpected assignment.”

Illya didn’t reply. He was actually enjoying the quiet time. He had returned from the last assignment with another collection of injuries so was happy to remain at HQ for another few days at least.

“Have you got much to do?” Napoleon asked, sounding suspiciously hopeful.

Kuryakin raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly where his partner’s question was leading.

“I have at least another four hours of work here,” he lied. “You’ll have to do yours yourself.”

Napoleon failed to conceal a sour look. He had been hoping to persuade Illya to take on his pile of paperwork so that he could go and hang out in the typing pool.

“You don’t have a very high opinion of me, Tovarisch,” he remarked.

“I regard you with the highest esteem, respect, and affection, Napoleon, but I also know you far too well.”

The two men fell silent once again. For several minutes the only sounds which could be heard were the clickety-clack of Illya’s typewriter, and the scratch of Napoleon’s pen. Both men were slightly startled when the telephone broke the hush.

“Solo,” Napoleon said as he picked up the receiver.

He listened for some time before saying, “Yes, Sir. We’ll leave as soon as we are ready.”

“Do we have an assignment?” asked Illya.

“Yes,” Napoleon confirmed. “I should be careful what I wish for. Get yourself sorted. We’re going to Bolivia.”


End file.
